Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 095.djvu/156

Rh Karker. Ah, good, my lord; methinks you are

Yourself dispirited and sad at heart.

Hakon. I, sad at heart! How dar’st thou say so, slave?

Let us be merry. Since thou wilt not eat,

Sing me some pleasant song.

Karker. What shall it be?

Hakon. Whate’er thou wilt—but rather let thy song

Be of dull sound—like rain, or hail-stones falling

Amidst a wintry storm. A lullaby—

Sing me a lullaby.

Karker. A lullaby?

Hakon. That might put children of ripe years to sleep.

In spite of midnight fears.

Karker. My lord, I know

A noble war-song from the olden days.

Hakon. Has it a frightful end? Seems it to go At first all smoothly—and then does it turn

To murder and to death?...

..........Begin thy song!

Hakon. Karker! art thou mad?

My father's death-song dost thou sing to me?

Karker. Was Sigurd Jarl, your father, then, my lord?

I knew it not. His was a dreadful fate!

Hakon. Hush!

Karker. Would that one could find a mat, or straw

Whereon to stretch one’s self, to seek repose!

Hakon. If thou art weary, sleep upon the ground;

I’ve done so oft myself.

Karker. Well, so I will, Sir Jarl, since you forbid it not. …

Hakon. Sleep—sleep!

(Karker stretches himself upon the ground, and fulls asleep. Hakon contemplates him.)

Hakon. O leaden nature-dost thou sleep so soon?

The feeble spark which witness bore that thou

Wert human—not a block—now smoulders there

Within yon heap of ashes. But … with me

It flames and storms in its unruly might.

Didst thou my father's death-song chant, to give

A warning from the Norner? Shall my fate

Like Sigurd's be? I am what Sigurd was,

A man of blood—stanch to the ancient gods.

What if it should be! … Can it be in truth

That Christ has conquered Odin?....

.............Ah! 'tis chill—

'Tis sadly chill and damp in this dark cell!

The slave is dreaming. Horrid! ghastly thoughts

Are painted on his face. See—how he lies.

And, like a demon, grips beneath the lamp!